Those who fought for something better
Those that taught by how they lived
Loved ones taken long before their work was done
Underground, underground, leave them underground
Underground—Assassin's Creed: Syndicate
Julianne dreams sometimes, her surroundings are an endless green field with only a hint of the Wayless Wood visible on the horizon. Her son is grinning at her feet, his lap filled with colorful flowers that he twists into a crown that will fit perfectly on his head. She's had this dream before with only little things changing; the deep purple of the sky hinting towards sunset, her son aging slowly, Dustfinger….
Dustfinger is still in her dreams. He's warm as though fire dances under his skin, smile softer than it used to be, hands smooth instead of rough from time and hard work. The scars are still there, silver lines that not even Death can remove from his cheek.
"I miss you," she tells him, though her heartache is just a shadow in this place.
"How could you miss me when I've not gone anywhere," he laughs. They're moving slowly together, a dance that her feet have memorized after countless years. In this meadow, there's no bad things to drag her down, just her and her boys. "I'll always be with you, little bird."
"You're dead." The words are like razors as they claw their way out of her throat, a wild beast trying to invade and rend. The silence around them doesn't so much as crack, those two words floating away and dissolving like cotton candy in water.
"And why should that matter?" He draws her close without stopping the dance, brushing her nose with his own. "I will cross oceans of time to find you." She laughs and tosses her head back to bask in the sunshine and his smile. "Corny or not, that movie has a few gems."
"Oh, my secret romantic." Their attention is drawn away by a noise, little feet on hardwood. Dustin doesn't react to it, but why should he? He's the one making the noise back in the real world where the grief tries to pull her down into a dark place where no fire can warm her. I don't want to wake up. "Are you still careful, Dustfinger?"
"Far more careful than you. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Ma," Dustin says, holding up the finished crown. "Jai make pretty flowers." She smiles in spite of everything, blinking her eyes open to find her son leaning over her. He's straddling her stomach and there's a crown of flowers balanced precariously on his head.
"Did he," she asks, and she manages to keep her smile in place even as a bony knee digs into her ribs. "Did you two have fun?"
"So much fun! Firefox helped, too!"
"He did?" Dustin nods enthusiastically, a few petals raining down over the coarse blanket. She could have fine silks if she wants them, Jacopo had asked her and Dustin to move into the castle just last night. She'd turned him down gently and endured the temper tantrum that followed. If there's one thing she's learned to do in this hard world, it's endure. "Well, let's go and join them."
"Yay!" Dustin topples off the mattress to the floor, landing on his butt. There's no tears, no grief, just the careless joy of a baby that doesn't know any better. His smile makes the pain less, but it doesn't take it away altogether. He bounces a little as she pulls on today's clothes, patched things that have seen better days. "Come on, Ma!"
"I'm comin', Dee." He pulls her along by the hand, finally steady enough on his feet not to need much guidance. It's late morning, she'd only been allowed three hours of sleep, but the winter sunshine is enough to wake her up completely. She really misses caffeine.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Resa calls, dismounting with the Strong Man's help. "Did you sleep well? You look tired." Julianne's missed the concern in Resa's face, the love that shines so brightly that Julianne can't help but feel it in her bones. She melts when Resa cups her face in gentle hands, eyes fluttering shut just like always. "Maybe you and Dustin should spend a couple of days with us."
"She's not allowed to leave the farm without Daddy or Firefox," Jehan states firmly. "That stupid old snake in Argenta wants her head." Color drains from Resa's cheeks at the reminder of the Adderhead, but there's a green tinge to them as well.
"Are you sick," Julianne asks. She reaches up a hand to press the back of it against Resa's forehead, dislodging the hands cupping her face. "You don't have a fever. Did you eat something bad? I told Mo that he has to pay attention to what he picks up in the forest—"
"It's nothing I ate, Juli," Resa says, laughing. Her entire face lights up and some of Julianne's worry ebbs away. Resa smiling like this means good things; Christmas presents, pillow forts in the living room, hot chocolate at midnight. "I'm pregnant." Julianne has to take a moment to process that, running through all the variables that she'd gone through with her own pregnancy before pulling her mom into a hug. "I take it you're happy."
"I'm just glad I'm not the one with morning sickness this time." When they pull apart again, Roxanne's already got a pouch of herbs in hand.
"What's this?"
"Peppermint mostly," she says, holding the pouch out. "It helped settle Julianne's stomach during the worst of her nausea. She basically lived on this stuff until little Dee was born." Julianne had drunk the peppermint tea religiously, doing her best to ignore the lingering smell that had always made her think of sharp knives and snapping belts.
"Where's Mo and Meggie," Julianne asks, looking around as if she'd simply overlooked them. Normally at least one of them tagged along, never missing an opportunity to see Dustin. That old adage about taking a village to raise a kid has nothing on all the people that have been helping with Julianne's son.
"Meggie was still asleep when I left, but I think Mo's going to work on a book today. He practically badgered me out of the one he already bound for me." Julianne's brows furrow and she cocks her head. "What?"
"Uh, nothing…. Just thinking." Mo had bound Resa's book of drawings less than a month ago, so why would he want it back? Julianne had seen the book herself, there were no flaws to be seen considering the rough materials he'd been using. Usually he only brought out a finished book when he had a client that didn't believe in his talent. Oh, son of a bitch. "You know what? I promised Jacopo that I'd come and see him today. I'd better get going."
"I'll come with you," Jaime says, hoisting Dustin up onto his shoulders. "The boys and I could help you keep the little Prince busy."
"I'd rather not have them in the castle right now. The Milksop is drunk ninety percent of the time and he's got a foul mouth. I'll be back before dark, I promise."
"You'd better be or I'm coming after you." She gives him a lazy salute and then begins the walk to Ombra. She's smart enough not to start cursing until she's well out of earshot of the others, then she kicks at the dirt and glares at the large wall slowly growing closer the faster the walks.
"I'm gonna put his head through a wall," she growls. "I don't know what he's thinking…." She wants to scream, but she bites her tongue as she approaches the men standing guard. No reason for them to think she's gone batty even if her father is pushing her closer and closer to that eventuality. What was he thinking, coming to Ombra castle?
"I don't remember the Prince summoning you here, Songbird," one of the guards says. He's just another anonymous face hidden behind a helm, one of the Adder's men sent to replace Cosimo's slaughtered guards.
"Would you prefer to send me away and get punished for that later or will you just let me past the gate?" The guard gives a sharp nod and steps aside to let her in, no doubt remembering the last time one of the guards had presented her to the Milksop for a prize. The man had been stripped and flogged before the whole marketplace, the Milksop knowing that to anger the little Prince would be tantamount to treason.
Julianne marches through the streets and past the guards, never once pausing to notice that her sister and Farid are standing just a few feet away from the inner gate. The guards don't stop her, taking in the determined edge in her gaze and the hard line of her shoulders.
The inner courtyard is depressing these days; the gardens churned up to house shacks for the Milksop's money, the grand tree from the Wayless wood chopped down and replaced by an ugly statue of the current governor, all the gold-mocker nests pulled down and trampled under steel boots. It makes her want to cry each time she sees it, but she doesn't have time for all that today.
"Out of my way," she growls at the man standing outside the door of the castle. He looks unafraid, but steps aside anyway to avoid any drama. She picks up speed as she hears soldiers marching, practically sprinting through the halls and up the endless stairs until she's forced to skid to a stop.
"This has all been a terrible misunderstanding," Fenoglio cries, desperately wringing his hands. Mo's have been bound again, three soldiers flanking him in case the famous Bluejay tries to fly away just like he'd done on Mount Adder.
"If you didn't want him caught, Inkweaver, then you shouldn't have described him in such detail," Balbulus sneers. He's the best illuminator in the surrounding kingdoms, but utterly unremarkable in looks. Julianne thinks he'd look more interesting with a scar made by her nails raking down his cheek.
"What the hell do you think you're doing," Julianne demands, pushing desperation and fear to the back of her mind. She can still taste it, though, a sour thing that curls around her tongue like rotten fruit. She strides forward with her chin raised stubbornly, yanking her father out of a soldier's grasp. "Do you know who this is?"
"The Bluejay." She turns a venomous glare on the illuminator and he snaps his mouth closed.
"If this man is the Bluejay, then I'm a fucking hummingbird." She doesn't swallow around the building lump as she remembers a skin-warmed necklace bought in a different story. "Haven't you heard? The Bluejay is my father. This guy…" She trails off, gesturing at Mo's everything. "Never seen him."
"She's right," Mo says, studying her like he's never seen her before in his life. It's almost funny how much effort he puts into this. "I think I'd recognize my own child. I'm just a bookbinder." But Balbulus isn't buying it and neither are the soldiers he's sent for. Julianne resorts to the more adult method of problem solving.
"Let him go or I'll tell Jacopo on you." One signal from Balbulus has a soldier binding Julianne's hands as well, the rope tight and scratchy. "I'm gonna shove your brushes up your ass when I'm untied."
"I'm shaking in my boots. Take them away." Fenoglio chases after them as they're forced back down the stairs, stammering out weak lies. For a guy who literally makes up lies for a living, he sure sucks at it. She thinks she'll beat him over the head with a book when she gets free. Maybe she'll take out all the people currently sitting on her shit list—Adderhead, Balbulus, Milksop, Fenoglio. That's a pretty good order and she might even get a song written for her by the time she's done. She glances to the soldier on her left, then to the bony fingers he's got wrapped tightly around her bicep and back to his face.
"I'm gonna whack you with a broom," she tells him earnestly. The guard doesn't say a word, just continues leading them all down into the depths of the castle. Are we going to meet the Goblin King, she wonders, trying her best to ignore the biting edge of fear.
Jacopo has shown her the dark places of this castle, the dungeons and a special chamber meant for retrieving information from prisoners. She knows what's waiting for them and she knows she probably won't survive it, too spiteful to be useful. Besides, it's Mo they really want, Julianne will be just a loose end to be gotten rid of.
Her nails curve into her palms as they finally come to a stop. She knows what's behind the door in front of them and has to wonder if they're going to be entombed alive. The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could. She wouldn't be at all surprised.
"Bluejay," one of the soldiers says, bowing. He opens the door and then walks back the way they'd come, leaving the prisoners in a state of confusion. Mo and Julianne share a look, then head through the open doorway into the crypt. If she remembers right, this is the one part of the entire novel Fenoglio had written about that was done with care, like he'd dreamed of being put here when he died.
"The vault of princes," Mo breathes out. He walks over to the grandest sarcophagus in the room, pillar candles burning at Cosimo's feet and casting his stone face in flickering shadows. Julianne thinks of another sarcophagus, of three adventure seekers who had unsealed it and brought the corpse back to life with a book. Evy must have had a silver tongue like Mo.
"Violante," the soldiers greet, bowing at the waist. Julianne's gaze snaps to the person standing beside the sarcophagus, ramrod straight and clothed in mourning colors. She has a plain face, her birthmark no more than a faint shadow now thanks to Fenoglio and Meggie. She's also young, far too young to be a mother and widow.
"Does he have the scar," Violante asks without looking away from the image of her dead husband. Mo watches calmly as one of the soldiers reverently pushes up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the scar Basta's dog had left what feels like a lifetime ago.
Violante moves over to them, the heavy fabric of her dress trailing over the stone floors with a quiet rustle. From a pouch at her waist, she brings out a pair of reading glasses, the genuine article of ground glass in a golden frame. She slides them on and studies the scar as Julianne and Mo study her in return.
Julianne's heard rumors of Violante's kindness, how she sneaks food out to starving villagers, argues on their behalf despite how the Milksop punishes her for it. They say she's locked in her room for days on end, but there's no sign of such a punishment present on the woman's face. Even the Milksop isn't stupid enough to leave a mark on the Adderhead's unwanted daughter.
"The famous scar," she says. She keeps her voice quiet as though afraid that she'll wake the dead if she speaks any louder. Julianne eyes Cosimo's sarcophagus again and thinks, death is only the beginning. "Do you know that my father's raised the price on your head again?" Julianne glances back to her father in time to see him pull his sleeve back down.
"So I've been told," he says. He doesn't sound scared, not while he's looking down at this small woman who looks so much like a pretty doll. Julianne thinks, and not for the first time, that this dear Princess should be out in the sunshine where no worries can weigh down her shoulders. She's too young for this strife.
"But you came to see Balbulus' illustrations all the same. Are the songs about you right? Do you not feel fear?" Mo doesn't answer and Violante blushes when she catches him studying her, turning abruptly. She goes back to the tomb, running her fingers over the stone roses that cushion a stone man.
"My father is much like myself," Julianne says, reaching out with her bound hands to touch Mo's wrist. "We're stubbornly loyal to the core. He's been wanting to see that workshop since he came to this land."
"Yes, I can understand the urge. I would have done much the same in his position." She heaves a sigh full of melancholy, a deep and desperate longing that Julianne feels echoed in her own breast. "I've been stealing from the treasury long before songs of the Bluejay were created. My people needed an infirmary, a beggars' refuge, an orphanage…. I let the secretaries take the blame, the corrupt old fools deserved to hang anyhow."
"No arguments here." Mo sends her a reprimanding look but she shrugs it off. She had met some of those men, had seen the way they sneered at poor people and ate an extra helping of venison. "You didn't see them, Mo. Didn't hear the way they spoke of the people in Ombra like they were nothing. There was less suffering in this kingdom before the Prince of Sighs passed away." Violante hums, nodding her head without glancing up.
"I've had all the Bluejay songs written down, you know. I keep them with me so they won't be sold off and I read them aloud at night to drown out the drunken ruckus in the great hall. The words fill me with hope that you and the Black Prince will stand in that hall one day and kill the lot of them."
She takes a step toward Mo, small hand dropping back to her side and lost in a sea of black silk.
"I've had people searching for you since I heard you were hiding on this side of the forest, Bluejay. I've even had one of my men trail after Julianne, but she never led him to you." Julianne's never been to Mo's farm for that exact reason, too paranoid to lead armed men to her family's door. "No doubt the faeries and brownies hide you while the moss-women heal your wounds." She sounds so earnest and Mo's smile is warm in return, the same smile he'd worn whenever one of his girls told him a story. Violante frowns instead of returning his smile, a reptilian thing that's all Adder. "Why do you smile?"
"Apologies, Highness," Mo murmurs, but he doesn't bow his head.
"Do you think me just a stupid girl with no power, husband, or soldiers? You're right that most of my soldiers are rotting in the forest because my husband was too quick to rush into war with my father, but I'm not stupid. I had Balbulus spread the word that he was looking for a new bookbinder because I knew you couldn't resist. I knew that would lure you here so I could ask you to help me kill my immortal father."
"Plot twist," Julianne sing-songs, then winces when Mo's elbow collides with her ribs. Mo's too busy looking at the three soldiers to notice he'd used too much force, shoulders a tense line.
"Don't look so anxious! My soldiers are devoted to me. My father's men killed their fathers and brothers in the Wayless Wood, so they want him dead just as much as I do."
"Your father won't be immortal for very much longer," Mo tells her honestly. His lips press together tightly, like he's trying to entice the words back into his mouth and out of Violante's head. Violante just smiles, this one softer than before.
"Then Taddeo was right. When my father first started to feel unwell he was certain that one of his maids had poisoned him."
"Mortola." The name is spit like poison, a black, dripping beast that makes living things curl up in agony. Julianne thinks of bloodstained straw, of a damp cell beneath a church with metal bars to keep prisoners inside.
"My father had her tortured to make her say what poison she'd given him, and when she didn't confess she was thrown into a dungeon beneath his castle. Taddeo says she disappeared from her cell and I hope she's dead. They say she poisoned my mother. Whether or not that's true, my father knows who's to blame for the way his flesh is rotting on his bones."
Julianne makes a sound of disgust, nose wrinkling at the image the words summon. Violante doesn't seem to notice, lost in her own thoughts as she continues to speak.
"Soon after your escape, Taddeo noticed that the Book smelled strange and the pages were beginning to swell. The clasps concealed that for a while, but now they can barely keep the wooden covers closed." Damp paper tends to have that effect. "Poor Taddeo nearly keeled over when he noticed what was happening."
"I can imagine," Mo says, just as quiet as Violante.
"Apart from my father, he's the only one who knows where the Book is hidden. He even knows what three words to write in it. My father would kill anyone else who had such knowledge, but he trusts the old man more than anyone else in the world. Taddeo never told my father about the state the Book is in, he secretly summoned bookbinders from all over to have a go at fixing it."
"How did your father react when he found out?"
"He didn't know for a long while. Taddeo had another book bound to look like the first and that's what he brings out when my father asks to see the Book. Everyone's talking about how my father is deteriorating. I heard his breath smells like stagnant pond water and he shivers as if the White Women are already surrounding him. What revenge, Bluejay! Endless life filled with endless torment!"
Mo says nothing, but Julianne can see his thoughts plainly on his face even if no one else can. He doesn't trust this Princess, not one little bit. Violante seems to know this as well, but she doesn't care.
"He only found out about your trick when one of the summoned bookbinders told him about it hoping for some extra silver. My father had him killed that very hour, but the word still spread. Now there's hardly a bookbinder alive in Argenta, most of them hanging from the gallows when they couldn't fix what you'd done. He threw Taddeo into the dungeon for his betrayal, he told him that he'd stay in there so that Taddeo's flesh rots just as slowly as my father's. I don't know if he's still alive or not."
Julianne swallows hard at the news, knees going weak and making her sway. A soldier grasps her elbow, a gentle hold this time as he steadies her. Beside her, Mo is in much the same state. Fear and guilt are sisters, a voice whispers in her ear. Fear for their lives set them to binding the Book and now guilt has come to visit, burning a hole into them for all the deaths that Book has caused.
"A heart more full of pity than any other beats in the Bluejay's breast," Violante recites, surprise laced through her tone. "Don't be so foolish as to feel sorry about those dead men. My father loves killing, he'd have someone hanging from the gallows no matter what you did. Anyways, an alchemist has found a way to preserve the book. It won't reverse the damage already done, but my father won't rot anymore. My father's still looking for you, he believes you're the only one who can lift this curse." Her face lights up with passion edged in dark lace, poisoned veins running through the words that come next. "Help me kill him, Bluejay! We could do it easily if we were allies!"
"I don't—"
"Not all daughters love their father. Your girls love you dearly, a blind fool can see that plainly enough, but my father will kill them all the same. He'll kill everyone you love and save you for last because that's the kind of man he is. He will destroy you before you can make him even more of a laughingstock. And do you know why?"
"I have a good idea."
"Every sour breath he takes reminds him of your trickery; sunlight hurts his skin, his limbs are so bloated that he can't ride anymore, he can barely even walk. He's made the Piper write songs about your death, such terrible songs that anyone who hears them can't sleep and soon he'll send that silver-nosed imp to sing them here. The Piper will find you and yours. His bait will be your soft heart, he'll kill so many innocent people that you will come out of hiding at last. But if I help you—"
"He's bound to be with her," Jacopo's saying, childish voice echoing off smooth stone. "Balbulus is a very good liar when he's doing it for Mother, but he always plucks his sleeves and looks more pleased with himself than usual! My grandfather's taught me to notice such things."
"What a clever lad you are, Jacopo," praises a man who's voice is rough. Jaime used to say it was because he breathed in so much smoke while trying to keep it away from his greased face. Sootbird. "Why don't we go to your mother's quarters? Surely we'd be more like to find her there."
"Because my mother isn't stupid. My mother is cleverer than all of you!" Violante moves quicker than what should be possible under all that material, clutching at Mo's wrist.
"Put your knife away," she hisses. "You're not going to die here. Come with me." The soldiers cut the bindings, freeing Julianne and Mo's wrists so they can go with Violante. She leads them deeper into the vault, all the way to a plain coffin with a stone lid that has a crack right down the middle.
"If he isn't here then we can go find Balbulus! You can make fire dance around his books!" One of the soldiers heaves the lower part of the lid aside, revealing an empty space where a body should have been.
"Quickly, Bluejay, climb in," Violante urges. It's a cramped space, obviously meant for someone shorter than Mo, but he climbs in all the same. His legs are bunched and he's got a knife in his hand, face going pale as the soldier begins to slide the lid back into place.
"My daughter," he starts.
"She'll be fine. Jacopo will be pleased to see her." The lid slots into place as the footsteps in the hall grow louder, Violante hurrying back to Cosimo's coffin. Julianne is slower to follow, hiding behind a statue of some King or another as the door is opened to allow Sootbird and Jacopo inside.
"Your Highness," Sootbird greets, voice far too loud among the dead. "Forgive us for disturbing you in your grief, but your son wishes me to meet a visitor you received today. He thinks the man is an old acquaintance of mine." My foot is going to get acquainted with your ass, ferret face.
"A visitor? The only one of those down here is Death."
"Your son said it was a flesh-and-blood visitor, a bookbinder. Dark hair, about yea high." Soothbird holds up his hand until it's around Mo's height and Julianne seriously contemplates hog-tying her father to make his ass stay home for once.
"Balbulus was interviewing bookbinders today." Violante's voice is cool and even, not giving anything away despite the scrutiny she's under. Act confident enough and you can pretty much get away with anything. Of course, Jacopo is a little shit that likes to shove his mother's confidence in a garbage can.
"You've hidden him," Jacopo says in a chirping voice, hopping from one flagstone to another. "I bet I can find him." He hops closer and Julianne lets him get even with the statue before she reveals herself, scooping the boy up in her arms. He lets out a squeal of joy, never noticing the way Sootbird flinches at the sound. "Julianne! What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd come see my favorite Prince," she says like it's the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Then why are you down here?"
"Your mother invited me to talk with her for a short while. She was wondering if I might have any new songs to memorialize your father." His face screws up into a frown, glaring around him like the dead have offended him. It would be adorable if he wasn't a sociopath in training. "But you've found me, little prince! Why don't we go outside and enjoy the sunshine while it's still warm?"
"But I know a man's down here!"
"Maybe he's a ghost." Jacopo's eyes go wide and he gazes around with none of the offense from earlier, trying to spot anything that doesn't belong.
"More likely he's the bookbinder trying to find a place to hide," Sootbird says, smiling uneasily. He doesn't like being down here anymore than Mo likes to be in a coffin. "That man matches the description of the robber your father is so desperately seeking, Highness."
"The Bluejay," Violante asks, sounding so genuinely incredulous that Julianne might have believed her if she didn't know any better. "I've told my father again and again that the Bluejay's daring will be his downfall! Don't breathe a word of this to the Milksop. I want to catch this bird and hand him over to my father myself. Have you reinforced the guards at the gates? Have you sent soldiers to Balbulus' workshop?"
"Er…. No. I mean, he's not in the workshop anymore."
"You're a bigger fool than I thought!" Violante's voice is sharp as a whip and just as seering, Sootbird falling back two steps. "Lower the portcullis over the gateway at once! If my father hears that you let the Bluejay ride out of this castle because you thought he was hiding in this vault…." The unspoken threat hangs heavily in the air, sticky and writhing where it settles around Sootbird's throat.
"Somebody's in trouble," Jacopo sing-songs, giggling. Violante spins on her heel, ignoring her son in favor of one of her young soldiers.
"Sandro, tell the guards at the main gate to lower the portcullis! Not one soul is to leave the castle. I only hope it's not too late already." The soldier nods and scurries off, the perfect picture of obedience. Violante turns to gaze at her son now, eyes bright with impatience. Jacopo!"
"Yes?" His youthful glee has disappeared, replaced by equal amounts of fear and defiance. He doesn't like being bossed around or treated like a child, something she's sure he shares with his mother. The two are more alike than not.
"If he finds the gates closed, where could the Bluejay hide? You know every hiding place in this castle, don't you?" His face brightens and he wiggles until Julianne sets him back on his feet.
"Of course I do! I can show you all of them!"
"Good, take three of the guards from outside the throne room upstairs and post them at the most likely hiding places. I'll go and talk to Balbulus." She gazes to Julianne, pale gray eyes hard and very much like her father's. "Julianne, you stay down here with Mateo in case he tries to hide in the vault."
"You got it," Julianne says, sketching a salute. Sootbird stammers a protest, but Violante grabs the front of his shirt and drags him with her out of the vault. It'd be amusing if Julianne and Mo weren't stuck in an underground crypt with chaos unfolding all around them. It's not long before Julianne can hear the warning bells ringing overhead, men shouting.
Mateo waits a good ten minutes after that before leading the way back to the sarcophagus, pushing the cracked lid aside and helping Mo out. He stretches his legs with a wince once he's standing again, massaging a cramp out of his thigh with the hand not holding a knife.
"We must hurry," Mateo whispers. "The Milksop has raised the alarm. There are guards everywhere, but Violante knows ways out of this castle that even Jacopo hasn't discovered." He seems so sure of that and why shouldn't he? He's still young enough to believe in shades of black and white, good and evil. He pauses, eyes lowered to the knife Mo's clutching. "How many have you killed?"
"Not as many as some of the men who lie here," Mo says after a moment of deliberation. Mateo looks around him at the lines of dead men, chewing on his lip.
"Is it easy?" Mo and Julianne lock gazes and a thousand words are exchanged in that single glance, an endless parade of dead bodies piling up until Julianne feels like she'll drown under their bulk. Fear and guilt are sisters, she thinks again.
"Killing is too easy, dying is harder." Mateo glances down at the sword hanging from his belt, castle-forged steel that hasn't been blooded yet. "Didn't you say we must hurry?" A blush creeps over Mateo's face and Julianne is reminded of just how young this boy is.
"Yes, of course." He leads them to a stone lion with the original coat of arms still displayed on its breast, the only one to be found since the Milksop took over. Mateo puts his sword between the lion's bared teeth and the wall of the vault opens just far enough for a grown man to squeeze through it. "The passage comes out above the castle. Violante won't be able to get your horse from the stables, but you should be able to sneak out if Julianne's with you. No one around here really believes you're her father since she's allowed in and out at all hours. All the same, the woods will be crawling with soldiers, so be careful. I'm also to give you this."
Mo takes the saddlebag Mateo's been carrying around this whole time, pulling out a book with a surprised smile.
"Violante says I'm to tell you that they're a present for you, made in the hope that you will accept the alliance she offers you." Mo nods and carefully tucks the book back into the bag before heading into the passage. Julianne pauses just inside the narrow entry, looking back to Mateo.
"Sorry I said I was going to hit you with a broom."
"Don't worry about it. Violante says that you make that threat a lot and never follow through with it." Mateo's grin is unexpected and welcoming, a rush of warmth that nearly knocks her over. He looks even younger like this, a boy of fourteen and already training to kill others. He's too young for the life he's been given and she wants to rend this world apart with her bare hands. Julianne scowls as she faces the passage, kicking at stray pebbles as she follows after her father.
"I'm gonna whack Violante with a broom, see what she thinks about that follow through…."